#I never have energy for anything anymore I’m so tired of being alive

[shalvis]

Google how to stop letting loneliness consume me

[isalisewrites]

Summer after the traumatic end of the Triwizard Tournament, instead of Harry Potter getting visions of the latest evil plot from the Dark Lord, it is Voldemort who gets visions of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s childhood.

And they’re not pleasant.

---

When Newt accepted to become one of Harry Potter's secret guard as a favor to Albus Dumbledore, he hadn't anticipated being faced with a choice concerning the welfare and safety of a child: obey Albus Dumbledore's orders or stay at Voldemort's side to protect Harry.

Though difficult, the right choice was clear.

------

FIVE EXCERPT:

How fucked up was it that Harry felt safer with Voldemort than he did with the Dursleys? Had he gone mad? This had to be madness.

And yet…

Voldemort didn’t like how he was being treated. It was so bad, according to Voldemort, that even he was concerned about Harry, enough to stop trying to kill him, enough to leave Harry healing potions. He’d had plenty of tries to kill him, but Harry was still alive—hell, he was doing better because of the man.

Harry curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest in a hug and wishing it were real. He searched through the park to look for any sign of Voldemort. He stepped nearby, making noise, and had left the jar, so he had to still be here, somewhere.

He almost wished Voldemort would stop hiding. What if he sat on the swing next to Harry? What would he ask him? Would he prod about Harry’s home life more or would he talk about something else?

Why do I even want to talk to him?

“I’m outside of the wards,” said Harry in a low voice, hoping the man could hear him. “You could kidnap, kill me, torture me, but you’re giving me bruisewort balm instead. I don’t get you.”

Doesn’t make any sense.

“What’s so bad about my life?” whispered Harry. “It could be worse, yeah? I only have to stay here for a few months out of the year. The rest, I get to live at Hogwarts. It’s not so bad.”

A lie, but it was better to lie to himself than face reality.

There was no sign of life. Maybe Voldemort wasn’t around. Maybe Voldemort had gone home, wherever that was. Maybe he was just talking to himself. The sun was setting finally, which meant the time to face the music was getting closer and closer. He’d better get home before it got dark or there would be more hell to pay.

“I don’t want to go back,” whispered Harry.

Never again.

But there was nowhere to go.

A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and weighted. Harry froze, the hair rising on the back of his neck. The hand didn’t move. No words were spoken. Tears welled up in his eyes again, but he didn’t let them fall. Harry slowly turned his head towards the side, but he saw no hand there. Instead of panic and fear rushing through his veins, a calm spread throughout his body. Harry let out a low sigh.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and disappeared.

Wait. Harry wanted it back—come back.

What the hell is wrong with me? This is Voldemort!

Dammit. This was too much—too much to process. Harry already lived on the edge of his sanity and control while living at the Dursleys. Anything could set them off. He had to constantly be careful about what he did and said around them. Even when he was obedient and submissive, he was still getting into trouble. 

He was tired—just tired.

Harry didn’t have the energy to wonder about Voldemort anymore.

Harry slowly stood up from the swing. “Guess I gotta get back,” he whispered. “Thanks again for the bruisewort balm.” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started the trek back to Number Four. He’d catch it worse if he were home after Dudley. He kicked a rock down the sidewalk, his thoughts in an uncontrollable whirl. He heard no other footsteps in the street, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Voldemort was following him.

Watching him.

Watching over him.

It helped, just a bit.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

In the Night

whumptober24 day 11- convenience store fandom- spiderman tw- suicidal ideation, depression, gun violence, possible character death implied (open ended) summary- Peter is tired

masterlist ao3

Peter sighs as he steps into the convenience store. He’s so tired. He’s just gotten off his second job of the day, and he doesn't think he has the energy to go out as Spiderman tonight. 

Not that he really needs to anymore, he thinks. There’s a new superhero team now. The Fantastic Four. Peter can’t help but be a little bitter at the fact that the public accepted them so readily while he’s always been called a menace. Not when their dislike of him pushed him into the stupid decision to go to Dr. Strange. Not when he’s lost everyone he loves because of his fear of what the public would do to him and the people he cared about.

He may have lost them, but at least most of them are safe and alive, even if they don’t remember him.

And the new team is smart too. If he remembers correctly, most of them are wicked smart scientists. And the Human torch is his age. They make him think of what could have been if the Avengers had stayed together, if Thanos had never happened. 

Would he have been able to visit the tower? Maybe had a room there? Worked with Mr. Stark in the lab, hung out with the other Avengers, learned from them? It’s hard not to be jealous. Human Torch has a whole team to help him, to protect him.

Peter has nobody.

It doesn’t matter. He still has Spiderman, even if the public still seems to hate him. He’s not going to stop. It’s like he told Mr. Stark. He protects the little guys. And that’s still true. The Fantastic Four might be here now, but they're not on the streets almost every day stopping ordinary crime.

That’s what Spiderman does. But still. He longs for people to lean on, to be able to relax with, to be himself with.

Maybe he can introduce himself, explain that he’s trying to do his part in his own way.

He’s almost done gathering the few things he came here for when he hears the bell above the door jingle. He ignores it thinking it’s another customer, but then he hears a gruff voice addressing the cashier, and his spidey sense flares.

“Money in the bag, or I shoot.”

Peter closes his eyes and curses under his breath. He’s tired, and he doesn’t have time to change into Spiderman. He turns slowly to keep an eye on what’s happening. As long as no one gets hurt…

But the terrified cashier is shaking her head.

“I don’t have access. Only the shift manatee has the key, and he’s not here right now. Please, don’t shoot.” They have their hands raised, and they’re trembling. 

The thief snorts. “Sure.” he says sarcastically. “Open the register and don’t bother telling anymore lies.” He steps closer to the cashier, his gun still raised.

Shoot. This is bad.

“I’m not lying, please!” The cashier has tears running down her face.

Peter steps forward. “Hey, now. There’s no reason to get upset. She doesn't have the keys, so let’s try to settle down. You need money? I’ve got a couple twenties in my pocket.”

“Don’t move.” The gun is pointed at Peter now, which is better than being pointed at the cashier.

“Okay, okay, I’m not moving.” Peter says, raising his hands.

The thief is getting agitated, the gun moving between Peter and the cashier. He has to keep his focus.

“Come on, man. She can’t help you.”

“Shut up!” he shouts, but at least the gun is back on Peter. 

The bell above the door jingles again, and the robber turns towards it. Peter dives towards him, but his spidey sense screams as the gun is pointed again in his direction. 

He doesn’t have time to move. His body is too slow, too tired. He hears the bang and feels himself collapse. The door slams open, and distantly Peter is aware that the man is getting away. But he can’t move. He’s on his back. He looks down at himself. His chest is red, but he can’t feel anything. He lets his head flop down on the ground.

There is suddenly a face above him. A boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Peter can see his mouth moving, but there is a ringing in Peter’s ears. 

Is this how Ben felt? 

At least there will be no one to mourn Peter. And New York has new heroes. They don’t need Spiderman anymore.

He can go, see May again, see Ben, see Mr. Stark. 

He lets his eyes close, distantly he’s aware of someone pressing on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He wants to tell them it’s going to be okay. The world doesn’t need Peter Parker anymore.

Peter can rest.

[izzyeffinhands]

“try and get some sleep. i’ll stay right here- i won’t let anything happen to you, i swear.” (Frenchie, elyrianinspo. Sorry if this is too many sent! You definitely don’t have to answer it if you’re not feeling it. Hope you feel better ❤️‍🩹 I’m a slut for frenchie protecting Izzy during The Bad Times (kraken era))

“ I don’t want to sleep, Frenchie. “

Izzy was tired. He was so tired, so fucking drained and so very sore after everything he was going through. Never in his days had he truly thought he might hate Edward Teach, but as of right now.. well. Pathetically, Israel still straddled the border on love. What would it take for the first-mate to have enough? What would Ed have to do for this codependent bastard to stop trying to love him? Well.. he’d find out eventually. Soon, was more like it.

Why was it that this old sea dog was at his most beautiful when he wept? Izzy’s eyes were glossed but he hadn’t permitted a tear to fall. Fuck, he’d wanted to save Ed. That was HIS mate, then that blonde came along and ruined everything. .. but he couldn’t really hate Bonnet either. Izzy was just so numb in the depths of sadness he wasn’t sure he’d crawl out from. So many feelings swirled in his mind. Izzy loved Ed, even now as he threw knives at him, as he cursed, as he mutilated him over and over. .. how many toes has he lost now? He isn’t even sure in this moment, he’s so fucking tired.

All of this abuse truly proved his worth as first-mate and quartermaster. This crew, minus Ivan and Fang, the bilge dogs that had thrown him off The Revenge? He was protecting. It was his duty, or what he told himself was his duty. Izzy had found out about Lucius sometime ago. Maybe this was his penance for not being able to save that boy. Maybe he was protecting the rest, despite things they’d done to him, in order to make up for it and every wicked thing that …

“ If I sleep the nightmares ‘ll come. “ That was when his voice choked, letting his head fall to the side so he could cast his eyes up at him as he sat in his bunk. He hadn’t even turned his head, he’d simply let it fall. He didn’t even know how he had the energy to keep going, but he was. He sniffed. “ And I can’t tell anymore if I’m asleep in the nightmare or if I’m awake.. it’s all just the same now.. “

Izzy often burned his flesh in a candle prior to The Kraken. He wasn’t beyond self harm and he was a bit of a masochist anyhow. But now the pirate took effort to lift his palm and raise it over the solitary pillar candle on the table at the bedside. He didn’t even flinch as his hand moved within the flame. Izzy had burned himself so much he had callouses, but this was his palm, and he had it cutting through the middle of the dancing light.

Eyes were on Frenchie as flesh sizzled and finally those welled tears began to drip down his cheeks. “ .. am I even alive? “

[kindheart525]

APRIL FOOLS!

Although I have two next gen projects well underway, I’m always coming up with new ideas for stories or tropes to explore, and some of them don’t fit in my existing projects. I know this may seem impulsive, but I’ve actually been planning this privately since November so it isn’t at all. I am proud to introduce my fourth next gen project, which for now I’m calling the Fourthverse!

*****

Twilight Sparkle is a proud single mom to two adorable twin fillies! They’re as close as can be, joined at the hip on all levels except physical. They finish each other’s sentences to the point where they almost look like they’re speaking in unison, they follow each other everywhere to the point where they’re absolutely never apart, down to sleeping together…not that anyone’s seen them sleep. Who’s the sire? Where are they? Did anypony even see Twilight pregnant? Twilight wishes ponies would stop asking all these questions, and she’s tired of seeing even her closest friends avoid eye contact with her beautiful creations…I mean children. They were created completely naturally and ethically, I promise!

Fluttershy may be good with animals, but that doesn’t mean she’s good with children. This is a lesson she learned years ago when caring her her friends’ sisters, but she forgot about it by the time she decided to have a child of her own and insisted it would be easy. If she can wrestle a bear, she can put a foal to sleep! Well, that logic obviously proved itself wrong as parenting turned out to be far more than Fluttershy was prepared for. Somewhere along the line she lost her mind, completely giving up on motherhood and throwing herself back into her role as an animal caretaker. She throws a birthday party for each and every one of her bajillion pets, all the while forgetting to care for her own foal, let alone celebrate the day she became a mother.

Pinkie Pie wants to make every foal smile, but once she had her own, she had to learn that life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There’s a lot of responsibility just to keep them alive. She may have figured it out for babysitting the Cake twins on occasion, but with her own foals there wasn’t a single break from responsibility. Eventually she realized that a lot of things about her own lifestyle were not suitable for raising a foal. Constant fun, constant sugar, constant energy…it was not the key to a balanced upbringing. But her parenting style became unbalanced in the opposite direction where she now gives her kids a life of constant boredom and no sweets at all. Pinkamena makes her own parents look like party clowns. It’s not the life she likes, but at least her family is safe and healthy.

Rainbow Dash is the menace of Equestria…or an icon, depending on how you want to look at it. No adult female of any species can resist her electrifying energy, the deep allure of desire that she invokes just by her mere existence. Wives have left husbands, heads of state have caused scandals, all for just a chance to taste the rainbow. Citizens are divided over whether this world savior is really a benefit to society anymore. If she still deserves to be called the Element of Loyalty. Well, to that she would say, she’s not the one encouraging creatures to betray her vows for her. She’s not making any promises she would break. They just stick to her like magnets without her even having to do anything; she can’t help being this awesome and irresistible. One thing’s for sure: she is contributing to a whole lot of population growth. This is only a fraction of it.

Applejack has fallen head over hooves for a very special stallion! Blank Sheet, a paper company executive, is the apple of her eye and nopony can convince her that he isn’t the one. Family members ask how she fell for a stallion that isn’t even a farmer, isn’t farming the core of her very being? Well, paper is made of trees so it still counts, darn it! He ain’t much into music, or athletics, or even really a conversationalist. He doesn’t smile a whole lot, if he ever has. He isn’t really a family stallion either…does he even have a family? But consarnit, Blank Sheet really does have a fascinatin’ personality once ya get to know him! It’s just that nopony but her can see it. AJ may be fighting for her life at the Friendship Council meetings every time she speaks of him, but there is no doubt in her mind that he’ll make a fine Apple one day.

Rarity feels as if the universe has put a curse upon her. All she wants is to settle down and raise a family with a good and generous stallion, but it’s like the universe pulls the rug out from under her every time she gets close to that goal. Each time she thinks she has met the love of her life, he dies tragically in some ridiculous and unbelievable way. Lost in the Everfree Forest, fallen into a pit of lava, even crushed by an anvil falling from the sky! One even died from a sprained ankle for some Celestia-foresaken reason. Rarity can never feel too safe, as tragedy can strike anywhere from early in the relationship to over a year into marriage. This poor stallion met his demise in the jaws of a bugbear, leaving Rarity to raise yet another foal alone among the many others her lost lovers have given her. Will she ever get a break?

*****

I’m really excited to start this project and introduce you all to the kids in between Auraverse and Thirdverse work. I’m excited for those verses as well ofc but I’m starting to think these are some of my best ideas yet!

[bestshipsmackdown]

Hey, so what I’m not going to do is be posting messages on here about why XYZ creator is problematic. Especially when I know for a fact that the entire team working on XYZ project have been doxxed and harassed. I absolutely am refusing to add to it.

If you don’t like XYZ or ABC that I post about, you are more than welcome to unfollow. But assume that I do have eyes and ears and am far too aware of exactly what people do behind the scenes. Unless XYZ creators are inciting violence and/or cruelty towards a minority, I cannot in good conscience sic mindless classless cancel culture minions to harass them. Not that that tactic even works. But that’s a whole other topic.

Unfortunately, putting up socially relevant materials about anything these days will incite violence by people who think that they are on a pedestal for being “morally more correct” than the people they are attempting to destroy. And I simply do not want any part of contributing to that mentality. And since the influx of twitter users coming back to tumblr, the toxic fandom mentality has risen back to what it was before those same people left tumblr during the mass adult content ban.

If this was back in 2013 I might have posted the message that caused this PSA, but alas, I’m not a middle schooler anymore. And I’m far too old to placate and/or prove how woke I am to anons.

The anon was polite in wording which is the only reason I thought about responding to it. However, as the rules state: internet etiquette. “curate your own experience.” I curate my internet experience to be mostly Ao3 centered. I do not center my internet experience around lambasting creators for every single one of their flaws. That sounds absolutely exhausting and I have such a low tolerance for seeing just how ugly this world is. There’s some creators you can’t avoid how nasty they are, because they scream it from the rooftops, so the best you can do is report them or block them.

Being socially conscious in this world means realizing that not a single person in this world does everything correctly. Not a single person is good. Not a single person is evil. Not a single person is worth supporting or believing in. Not a single person is worth wasting time on. Everyone is bad. And not one person can be redeemed without having everything they’ve ever done wrong being thrown back into their face. Everything is owned by a corporation. Corporations keep people in poverty whether it be their workers, their consumers, or the people they exploit to get materials from.

You will never see me saying that a creator of anything is good or should be supported. Because I cannot. Because I will always be wrong if I do. That’s the bleak reality. And that’s why the toxic nature of the internet and its ideas on morality make being alive in this time such a pain in the ass.

While everyone in this world is flawed and immoral, you have to stop finding the things to hate in everyone. You will always find things that people have done wrong. That they shouldn’t have done. That are not okay. And if all you can see is the worst things people have done, you will never see the good things.

And sure. There are some people who do things that are so far beyond wrong that they cannot be looked at without that standing out as the most important thing about them. Their failures as a human outweigh any good that has or could ever come from them. But often times, the world just isn’t that black and white. If you ignore the shades of grey, you will never see what color you really are. You will become exactly the evil that you believed you were stopping.

Anyways I don’t know if that all makes sense. But I’m just so tired of people. The more energy you spend on things like this, the less you have to fight actual oppressors. The focus should be on taking down the infrastructure. And you need the shades of grey to be on the correct side in order to battle true evil.

Being kind and compassionate and aware of people is important. Reflecting on yourself and trying to be a better person than you were yesterday is important. And everyone should be doing that. But the fact is, not everyone will. And they are far less likely to when they know that the only thing they will ever be seen for is each of their missteps. That if they make any new mistakes, it will all be linked back to their previous ones.

And idk about the rest of you, but I just don’t have the mentality to keep a mental list of just how good or bad each and every person on this planet is. I’m just here to make two or three or four or more characters kiss each other, because I’m a romantic. And sometimes making a few dudes kiss is just enough to pretend the real world doesn’t exist. That everyone, I’m trapped on this earth with, aren’t horrible in one way or another.

[ember373]

4/8/23 4:08 pm

Hmmm…interesting date and time. I’ll ponder over that another time…

I just finished an erotic vampire/werewolf novel. I really shouldn’t read those. They get me all worked up and remind me of what I’ve been missing all these years. The primal love. That physical closeness. That feeling of desiring someone and being desired back. It makes me ache. In more than one place. My heart…between my legs…ugh.

It makes me wonder tho. That physical desire is such an important thing, why does A stay? It’s been over a year since he claims he’s had any sex, yet he stays. Why is that? Am I worth it? Of course, this is if he is actually speaking the truth about not having any since we met. But I do believe him. I’m just not sure if it’s because I just really want to believe him. I’m not sure if there’s that much of a difference anymore.

I have two theories.

We’ll start with the worst one first. And that is that he really doesn’t feel that much of a need for sex. Since he doesn’t feel that need as intensely then maybe he just keeps me around because it’s fun to play with me and I give him a sense of superiority. He has control and power over me and that can be quite addicting I would suppose. He’s just biding his time until either his mom forces him to go on dates or he finds someone himself. Why not play around and get his kinky satisfaction before then?

The other theory…I’m not sure actually if it’s better or not. The more I think about it, the more I can’t wrap around my head around someone just keeping me around for fucks sake unless they either are playing with me or…they love me. He knows if I leave, I’ll come back. I’m his. There’s a solidness in that. I think maybe he can almost rely on it? But you know… I do seem to think like it’s not always necessarily me begging to come back. I mean, it is, but it’s because he’s opened that door waiting for me to step in and do it. And because I love him, I do. I feel that maybe he does need me and I’m more than happy to always go back and love him more. I sometimes wonder if I really left-what would he do? Would it upset him? Or would he just shrug and move on?

I think…his seeming indifference sometimes is because he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. He’s been hurt so bad and doesn’t want to be hurt again. And I want to be with him with everything I am but… I mean… doesn’t he deserve better? More? I’m past my prime. There’s nothing remotely sexy about me. I can’t even do things right and I don’t try hard enough. I’m depressed as fuck which saps up energy I could use trying to please him. *sigh*

And this whole just waiting for him to leave me thing is killing me. It’s just an axe hanging over my head-when will the final blow be? Will today be the day he decides to end things? Will it be tomorrow? How long can this last without physical touch? I mean…he didn’t even want to come see me in AZ. I wasn’t worth the effort. So why does he keep me around? I don’t get it. I’m trying to prepare myself for the devastation. I know the loss of him in my life will devastate me. I also know I probably can’t ever have him so that loss is inevitable. It makes everything feel so…unreal. Why am I alive? I just don’t see a point anymore. Can I take the place of someone who’s fate is at it’s end? Give someone who wants to live the chance at life? It’s such a waste on me.

Trapped in a marriage I hate. In love with someone who most likely doesn’t love me back and never will and will drop me at any moment. My kids don’t really need me. I’m estranged from my family for the most part. My in laws irk me. My friends have their own lives and other friends and it’s so easy for me to slip out of people lives with my silence. Can I just slip out of this one and not have one anymore? Can I just not exist anymore? I don’t even have a job I love anymore. There’s nothing for me. Everything I do is for other people. My existence is for other people. I’m tired of it. If the universe doesn’t feel I deserve anything, can’t it let me go? Why does it have to be so cruel and keep me going…

All this from an erotic novel. Ffs. I had so many eloquent thoughts and insights in my head and when I sat down to type them…garbage. What’s the point anymore then? I can’t even whine properly anymore.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Just a massive rant and mental health pity party

I know I’m mentally ill, and I know I’m pretty incapable of a lot of things, but because I am on the dsp and I don’t work and I don’t really DO anything, I think it’s easy for me to forget how mentally ill I am. Because my “routine” isn’t affected by my mental illness. Because my routine is just being at home. I can be depressed and miserable and not shower for a week or not look after myself and it doesn’t really affect me. I’m in my room anyway. I’m at home anyway. I just sleep when I need to.

But then when I try and step out and do things and get to the point where I’m integrating more external things into my routine I’m just smacked in the face with how inept I actually am. Though I know that probably just sounds like I’m extremely lazy and I probably am. I think the things that are going to stop me are my ocd or ptsd or body image issues. And they do. But it seems so often it’s just a combination of my depression and anxiety that prevent me from doing anything. I’m just genuinely so tired all the time. It gets to the point where thinking about catching the bus and then catching the train makes me want to sleep. Or I get so anxious over the idea of being outside for that long with no quick way home that I make myself exhausting. I think of the next day and the next day and the next day and the next day and I’m just so inhibited by fear and tiredness. I shut down. I just go to bed.

And I partly know why. I know I’m alive for the sole purpose that one, I’m apparently too chicken to make any of my attempts more then an overdose because I don’t want to traumatise anyone, and I feel as though death is something I’m not allowed access too because again it will traumatise those around me. So I just feel stuck here , waiting. And there are times where I TRY to better myself or do things that are fulfilling or enriching or might make life something I want for myself and not just other people. But they are either extremely superficial (like buying books) or I can do them once and then suddenly the thought of ever doing it again sends me into a spiral (like the course or going to a play). And I just can’t do it. I want to retreat back into my room, close my eyes and forget about everything. Because I’m weak and I’m a coward and I have no backbone. As soon as that prickling feeling hits me I close my eyes and go to sleep. Because sleep IS my death. It’s the death I’m allowed access to. But I’ve also been doing it for so long that genuinely my body has little energy. It’s so accustomed to sleeping that now even when I’m not stressed or upset I’m still tired.

It makes me fall into this weird pit of feeling less guilty in some areas and more in others. A part of me is like , ah see! You really do need the dsp. You really are very mentally ill. It’s okay. And then another part of me is like you need it for THIS???? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just go out and do things. If you don’t force yourself it’s never getting better. You will be stuck in your room forever. Rotting away as the world goes around. Ageing into nothingness. Finding nothing worthwhile in life. Having no dreams or aspirations or goals and achievements. Just rotting flesh. No friends, no connections, no job, nothing.

But I feel so unbelievably apathetic to try anymore. Because whenever I DO try it’s so short lived. I said I wanted to complete this course so I could have completed SOMETHING since high school. So I could look back on my birthday and think at least I did something. But even that’s fallen through. I want to just throw in the towel, and shut myself away from the world because I’m exhausted. I feel this deep seated tiredness that just never seems to go away. Even now I feel like I can hardly keep my eyes open and the only reason I’m pushing through is because I’m hoping the tingling and other somatic pains that are crushing me because of my emotions will go away.

It so often feels like life was a gift given that I had no choice in and have no way of returning. I feel so unbelievably stuck and pathetic. Like there is just no point in trying to get better or make plans or push myself because I always let myself down and can’t do it anyway.

[aeoki]

Grand Slam - The School’s Ghost Stories: Chapter 8

Location: Yumenosaki Garden Terrace Characters: Hiiro, Aira, Mayoi & Hitsugi

Hitsugi: Oh wait, Anzu-senpai’s awake now. I guess we were too noisy~ That’s a shame since it looked like she was sleeping so peacefully.

Okay ♪ Ehehe, good morning, Senpai!

Mayoi: Good morning~... Y-You seem quite tired, Anzu-san.

Oh, I should be saying this first: Thank you very much for working with us over the summer holidays…♪

Hiiro: Indeed! “ALKALOID” as a whole is truly grateful to you, Anzu-san!

We were able to overcome our difficulties thanks to your information!

Aira: Thanks for working so hard, Anzu-san… I wonder if the flu is spreading or something, I also didn’t feel well all of a sudden yesterday.

Hitsugi: Oh, Anzu-senpai doesn’t have a cold. It looks like she pushed herself in a new way even though she hasn’t fully recovered from being worn out from “Tanabata Fest”.

Hiiro: What do you mean by she pushed herself in a new way?

Hitsugi: Well, you see, it’s almost time for the Sports Festival, right?

Hiiro: What’s a sports festival?

Aira: I’ll explain later.

…Umm, what’s happening with the Sports Festival? I’ve heard it’s a grand event every year.

The Sports Festival at Yumenosaki isn’t generally broadcast to the public and there aren’t any photos or footage of it, so the event is shrouded in mystery.

That’s why I’m actually looking forward to taking part in it this year.

Hitsugi: I see~ It’s a festival, after all. I hope you can enjoy it to your heart��s content ♪

But it seems they’ll scrap the old traditions and run it alongside ES as part of a gaudy and luxurious work event.

Aira: W-Work event? The Sports Festival? What do you mean?

Hitsugi: That’s still being discussed right now~ Actually, to be honest, all the work regarding the Sports Festival has been thrown to Anzu-senpai and that’s why she’s dying at the moment.

Aira: Y-You really are working so hard.

Hitsugi: Yeah. It’ll be a sports festival no one has ever heard of – it’ll be the biggest one yet. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous that they’ve told her to plan and manage everything from scratch?

It’s unreasonable to ask one person to do it all by themselves.

I’ll be helping out as much as I can, of course, and a few other “producers” also said they could lend a hand.

But you never know if the “Peace Party” might pester her with something bad again~ ES just told her to do something unreasonable and is uncooperative while the management behind Yumenosaki is just as useless.

Jeez, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m at such a loss. It’s the end.

Aira: (H-He doesn’t seem that bothered by it. I guess he’s just kinda laid-back?)

(Well, he’s much better than those serious people. Working with people like that makes me feel gloomy too.)

Mayoi: I’m terribly sorry, I’m terribly sorry! I’m sorry for being so dark! You’re right, your mood hits rock bottom when you’re with me, right!?

Aira: Can you not read my mind, Mayo-san!?

It’s not like anyone said that about you and I actually think that sense of ennui you have is pretty ravely!

A-Anyway… It sounds like things are pretty difficult in the “producer course”. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.

Hiiro: Indeed. We “ALKALOID” are still newbies with nothing to our name but I think it’s good to be actively accepting all kinds of work.

Hitsugi: Thanks, that’ll be great~ I could seriously use the help right now.

But you’re already helping me with “Broadcasting Accidents”, so I feel bad if I were to ask you all to help me more, though.

Hiiro: It’s fine! Being full of energy is our redeeming feature!

Aira: So you’re saying I didn’t have any redeeming features since I was passed out yesterday? Is that what you wanted to say, Hiro-kun? Well, sorry, I wasn’t full of energy!

Hiiro: You have redeeming features of your own, Aira! Right, Mayoi-senpai!?

Mayoi: Of course, you have a perfect score from me just by being alive ♪ There, there, Aira-san…♪

Aira: I’m being really spoiled right now, huh… To be honest, it feels nice but I also feel like I’m just gonna turn into a marshmallow ♪

Hitsugi: Fufu… Hm? Anzu-senpai, what’s wrong?

You look so pale… What? You’re kidding! Are you serious, Senpai!?

Hiiro: ? What’s wrong? Has a new enemy by the name of pushing-yourself-in-a-new-way arrived?

Hitsugi: Enemy? No, umm, I’m sorry!

It seems there was a message from ES. There was “an issue with the contents” of the “Broadcasting Accidents” episode we filmed last night, so the whole project has been dropped!

Aira: T-The whole project’s dropped? Does that mean it won’t be released?

Hitsugi: Yes! All the budget we had to pay for your appearance fees will have gone to waste and it seems they’ll also be collecting “L$” as a penalty…!

I’ll be up to my eyeballs in debt! The “Broadcasting Accidents” project was a huge failure…! W-Why did it turn out this way!?

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[mr-s3lfdestruct]

I can’t say anything, this is my own doing. Why haven’t I been fixed yet? I’m trying so hard, I’ve been pushing myself to my literal breaking point to provide for them and it’s not even. It’s not enough, not even close to what I should be giving.

What kind of biological error needs to be made to make a person this horrifically obsolete? Do you know what happens to animals in nature when they’re like this? They die, simple as that. Unfortunately I’ve been given the chance and the luxury of my uselessness not getting me killed, but that isn’t saying I don’t deserve it. If I can’t contribute, why even bother keeping myself alive anymore? I’ve already proven that im too selfish for this world.

But I won’t do it, I refuse to out of what? Fear? Laziness? It’s terrifying, sure, but why can’t I bring myself to it? It’s how I’d benefit them the most. I’m a pest more than anything, like a fly that flies through your window and for whatever reason can’t make its way out, that or a mosquito which is more fitting considering how I leech off of others like I don’t pay rent. Animals that are useless benefit others the most by dying, that’s just how it works.

I can’t do it, I won’t do it, I just. I’m so scared. I’m so tired. I don’t want to die, I honestly, wholeheartedly and truthfully really don’t, but that makes me so incredibly selfish. I’m greedy for clinging onto this life, im greedy for using my energy to keep myself alive rather than benefiting others.

Maybe I was right all alone to be used like that? Maybe it’s how I benefited others best, sitting back and taking whatever I deemed “mistreatment” when in reality it was probably what I had coming. I deserved to be cheated on, I deserved to be verbally abused and berated, I deserved to have my body used, I deserved the abandonment and ghosting, I deserved all of it. I had a purpose, and that purpose was to serve until they were done with me, then I’d be passed onto the next.

I’m single use, that’s what I am. Why aren’t they treating me like that if they know that’s how im used best? Why am I not being abused and neglected? Why am I being treated like im human? I feel like im being used wrong, being loved is so genuinely terrifying to me because I know deep down I don’t deserve it. Not when I’m not making myself useful, not when im exhausted and letting myself rest.

I’m genuinely the scum of the earth, no doubt about it. Being left out of things is nothing compared to the abuse I’ve suffered through before, yet it has that same aching to it, which is so cruel for me to say, so hurtful to them because it’s not their fault, it’s my fault for not being receptive enough, it’s my fault for not providing and having the energy to come up with things myself, it’s mh fault for seeming uninterested when in reality im just tired, that or im too scared to say anything out of fear of intruding

Because that’s what I am, im intrusive, im invasive, I leech off of others with nothing to provide myself. Why does my mind go blank when I try to come up with things to say in return? Why can’t I find the right words to describe my ideas? I’m a square peg in a round hole, I simply don’t belong, maybe it’s not my thing, maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to come up with things, maybe im useless.

I have so many ideas with fish it’s insane but. I don’t talk about any of them, it’s not my place. If I can’t provide and be receptive to other people’s ideas, do you know how incredibly selfish it is to bring up my own things? Maybe that’s why im not included, maybe that’s why im never told things anymore, I simply can’t provide. I’ve been squeezed dry, I’m used to being single use, I can’t keep up with this, I can’t constantly provide because im used to my body and mh mind being used as a one and done type of deal.

I’m so exhausted, im so tired, I crave love and affection and I crave to be spoiled and taken care of but lord knows that’s the farthest thing from what I deserve. Loving me is a chore, and im a horrible person for giving anyone that task.

I’m so fucking tired, what the actual fuck is wrong with me, I can’t do this anymore

[tbd99]

Entry 7

It’s been a few days. I thought about writing every day but I just didn’t have the energy to.

Today, I almost cried when I woke up. Last night I had been praying and just begging to let me sleep forever. When I opened my eyes, there was no moment of clarity. Just pure dread.

I would like to say “I miss when I was a child, and ready to start the day each time I woke up,” but that’s simply not true.

I had been wishing to never wake up from my pillow from as long as I can remember. I have never been happy being alive. People think I’m lying when I say that. Because I look so happy, so full of joy when I speak. But that’s so far from the truth. Everything I do is an act, just so people don’t need to worry. I don’t know who I am anymore because of it.

Each day, that feeling of taking those pills grows stronger, or relapsing.

Sometimes I think, if life really *was* that unbearable, I’d have done the job correctly by now. I remember my last attempt, and truly thinking that I would never open my eyes again. It was the most peace I had ever felt. That I would never have to struggle again and hate myself.

But, I’m still here. It almost worked.

That was my most serious attempt, all my others were just… lousy. I tried to take pain killers and sleeping pills but those only made me feel slightly sick in the morning. I took one bottle of this medication my doctors gave me for heart issues and that didn’t work. Now I have two, and I know for a fact if I take them both, I won’t wake up in the morning.

They sit by me each and every night. But still, I don’t take them. Why? If all I can write about is how tired of life I am then why can’t I just end it? I wouldn’t have to worry anymore, and I’d finally be happy. So why am I still here?

My mother knows something is up with me. She asked me if I was okay and of course I said yes. She said I could talk to her about anything and I said okay. I stopped believe her. I couldn’t talk to her about anything. Everything I ever talk to her about ends poorly. She always judges me, shames me, tries to change who I am, or pokes fun at me. I’ve stopped telling her anything now.

If I ever did go through with it, and it worked, I just hopes she knows it wasn’t her fault. I am unfixable. She just got unlucky having me as a son.

My life has been nothing but a waste and I don’t see that ever changing. I am not smart, not pretty, and not useful. There’s so many things that are wrong with me that the good parts of me don’t even matter.

People tell me I’m funny. But that’s all an act. If people knew how I really was, they’d never like me. I hardly speak or smile when I’m not putting on an act.

It’s so exhausting fronting like that, just so people don’t find you as a pain to be around.

I think my friends also know something is up with me. I got a text saying how they’re all here for me and stuff. That was sweet. But, I can’t stay for them.

I remember going to a psychiatrist to try and get a depression diagnosis. My mother doesn’t believe I’m depressed. She thinks people have put stuff in my head to make me think something’s wrong with me.

The psychiatrist said that maybe I should just go on walks more often, and how I just seem too bright to be depressed. She told me how it’s probably just the teenage hormones making me think this way, and my mother was quick to agree with her.

No one has any idea what goes on in my mind.

No one knows me.

I’ve started to believe that I’m not depressed. I mean hell, what have I been through that constitutes depression? I’ve had such an easy life that it makes no sense for me to be this way.

I don’t need therapy, I’d rather them give to someone who actually needs it. I’ve found a solution to all my problems, I just need to execute it properly.

Anyway, I guess I can’t lay in bed forever. It’s already 4pm. Bye.

[adzeisval]

No...not like this

Lucius is old and tired. Warnings for major character death and attempted suicide in this one. Also on AO3.

Lucius carried the little bottle of liquid carefully into his room. He’d been careful the last few days to be normal to not seem too depressed or too happy. Lucius didn’t want anyone to know what he was about to do. With luck it would look like an accident, like he had died in his sleep. 

It was only Lucius and Jim left out of the original crew and Lucius couldn’t even fathom being the last of the bunch. He and Jim were getting so old and either one of them could go first really, they complained together of aches and pains and being tired a lot more often. It wouldn’t take much to bring the end about. 

Oh there were new people around the Inn, people that Lucius had grown to care for and company he enjoyed but…it wasn’t enough to stay. Lucius couldn’t be last so he was going to make sure he went before Jim. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned the little bottle over in his hands. It was supposed to be quick and it wasn’t supposed to hurt. He was just supposed to take it, go to sleep and he would not wake up. He wouldn’t have to be alone and he would get to see Pete again. He missed Pete so much. He needed to see Pete, he had waited long enough. He’d made other friends and he had Jim but after Pete died he couldn’t really move forward with someone else. Odd, he’d always thought he’d find some companion, he’d never been monogamous as a younger man but he just didn’t have the energy to try to find someone. 

Lucius swallowed the contents of the bottle and went to bed. 

“What the absolute fuck are you doing twatty?” 

Lucius looked to see Izzy at his bedside and he wondered if the man had been that mean to everyone else when he’d come for them. 

“Dying, what does it look like,” Lucius said. 

“The hell you are, that stuff's gonna make your stomach turn and you’re going to vomit it out,” Izzy said. 

“Am not. Doesn’t matter really does it? I can’t have that much longer left anyway.” 

“No…not like this Lucius.” 

“I don’t see the difference,” Lucius said. 

“You’ll regret it, you’ll miss the little joys in life. Yes death is inevitable but don’t come to it early,” Izzy said. 

Lucius tried to ignore that, and tried to ignore the fact that his stomach really did hurt. What the hell did Izzy know about it anyway. 

“You know that I know,” Izzy said, “I tried to take my life and it wasn’t all that long before I died but that time between…I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Please Lucius, don’t make me take you like this.” 

“Fuck off,” Lucius said, but really he didn’t think it would matter that much would it? But his stomach hurt and he felt like he should vomit and in the end that won out. He puked and passed out. 

Lucius woke up alive the next morning and wasn’t sure how he felt. Both good and bad. But at least Izzy wasn’t there yelling at him anymore. Lucius went out to breakfast and…well the coffee was rather nice. He would miss that. And the sunrise. And talking to Jim. He would miss things he realized, once again and was glad Izzy was there to stop him.

“Are you alright Lucius? You seem a bit off this morning.” Jim asked. 

“I…had a bad night. I was thinking about Pete too much.” 

“You’ll see him again, and probably not long from now. We’re getting fucking old,” Jim said. 

Lucius laughed. That felt good. Laughter with someone else, he would miss that. He didn’t know what the afterlife was really going to be like did he? Izzy was right.

Izzy was right about another thing too. It was only a year later when Lucius went to bed early with a splitting headache only to wake in the middle of the night to see Izzy once again in his room. 

“Thank you Izzy, you were right.” 

“Glad you see it that way,” Izzy said, “I really didn’t want to take you that night. I’m sorry you were hurting Lucius but…” 

“I know Izzy. You’ll look after Jim?” 

“Of course, come on I’ll get you across to Pete,” Izzy said and Lucius followed.

*****

Jim sat beside Lucius bed. They’d put a blanket over the man and was sitting with him for a little bit before they got help to bury him. Jim as alone. Well no that wasn’t right. Jim had people just none of the original crew. 

Jim spent a lot of time by the graves the next morning, saying hello to all of the crew and knowing that they would be with them soon enough. Jim would spend the rest of their life as best they could and some day Izzy would be there for them too.

[anarcho-sexual]

Alright this is a personal rant. I’ve decided to post it here and to post it at all because I don’t want to bother my few friends & I need these thoughts to exit my vessel & I don’t think paper or notes app will cut it this time. Please ignore if you wish. If you read, know that it’s got negative energy. It’s just for me but obviously the internet is public so idc if anyone ever says anything on this or not

I want to see a therapist who specializes in genderstuff but I’m not out to my parents (one I live with still cause I’m a loser). My mom would never have to know cause I’m an adult but I’m on my dad’s insurance & he graciously provides me with a roof & food for free. All he asks is I actively work on myself instead of giving up on my life & my mental health. It’s a fact that he would love & support & accept me as his daughter. But I’m just not confident my mom would. The concern about my mom is more regarding transitioning than seeing a therapist but it’s all the same game. She’s a conservative & mildly queerphobic. Idk if she would ever even use my real pronouns or name if I told her. I’m thinking about one day moving far enough away that my family can’t surprise visit me AND it’s so far it isn’t desirable to want to come see me that often. Then I’ll just put on a man costume when I do see them. Like Halloween. It feels like that’s what I have to do. I feel guilty about feeling like I can’t come out too. I feel like I can’t come out because I’m terrified. I have an anxiety disorder that my dad literally caused for me & trust issues directly related to him. He’s not a cunt anymore but our relationship was kinda ruined. Well I guess you can’t ruin it if it was never good huh? But like that’s it! I have crippling anxiety, trust issues, & the potential (not even a certainty!) that my mom may not accept me or respect me/my identity. I’ve already “lost” my mom to American Conservatism would it really devastate me if I had to go NC cause she didn’t accept or respect me? Nah I’d just be sad about it for awhile & every now & again. That’s all I have in the way of me being myself openly & getting the help I need. Ain’t no one gonna kick me out, disown me, hurt me in any way, nothing. I’m so incredibly fortunate to be a trans girl who doesn’t have to worry for a second about violence or even yelling if I came out. So fucking fortunate. But I still just can’t fucking do it. I don’t even want to! I just want the stuff I need :/ well actually I just want to be anti-alive but I can’t do that because I literally have to ensure that my siblings are raised properly because our mom has backwards conservative beliefs and I refuse to allow that misogynistic bullshit to be put onto my sister & their dad is just a damn POS. His behavior is very consistent with everything I’ve read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, to give a hint.

Ultimately I know I don’t need therapy because there have been thousands of trans people who raw dogged that shit cause therapy didn’t exist yet. But it sure helps. Also I imagine I’d have a difficult time getting HRT without any history of therapy that’s focused on my gender identity issues. I’m so tired dawg. I’m just so tired.

If you read this, & have reached the end here, I thank you for giving my feelings your time. In return, I offer this egg 🥚

[sludgefriend]

You ever have one of those dreams where you find yourself in a fight, so you go to swing a punch because yknow, if you don’t, you’ll end up seriously injured or worse? So you throw your punches, but the blows just don’t land. Like trying to throw cotton against the wind. That’s how my entire life has felt ever since the winter. I try to change my life, make something happen, get any kind of footholds in whatsoever, but nothing seems to stick. I don’t change, but the world around me changes constantly. I feel like a ghost. I get the sense like somehow, I must just not exist at all. People ask for help, and i try, but man, I’ve just got nothin’ in me anymore. Haven’t for a long time. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that if I don’t do anything, I’m only gonna fall even farther and even harder. But I’m gettin’ burnt out. Badly. I can feel the weight of the stress on my body like it’s a real, tangible thing. I’m sluggish, I feel sick, I never stop being tired. I can hardly enjoy anything. I’m so focused on how I can survive, how I can get myself out of this mess, that I can’t really look forward to the future at all. Anything that could bring me any kind of relief, anything that can make life really worth living feels so, so far off that it seems nearly unattainable. I wish I could heal. I wish I could plan. I wish I could build something. I wish I could chase the things my heart really desires. Instead, all I can really do is figure out how I can keep myself alive and use whatever other time and energy I’ve got to try and grab at whatever I can to get any kind of stability. I’ve lost too damn much. I’ve failed too many damn times. It’s all too damn much, but somehow nothing’s ever enough. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired.

I just hope I can change something. Soon.

[campbluelake]

[Clacks Clapperboard] Take 4! | Director Q-n-A

Saya makes a good point. A really good point, actually. Would executing him in some gruesome fashion free them from this place..? He thinks over every word. She deserves the best answer he can provide.

"So would killing you accomplish anything? Would it get us out of this situation?”

"I... don't think so... if I'm not around, my colleague would continue things in my stead, I'm sure... And then Vual, who knows? Killing me would just make you feel better."

He looks up at her with tired eyes.

"I want to do anything I can. Everything I can to try and atone for what I've done... if that means you killing me... I'll do it. I can't say how sorry I am otherwise."

Part of him felt like he deserved it, too. Well, most of him did. That's why when Eri approaches him, he winces, afraid of a punch. To get kicked around like she did when they first met. Back then, he thought he was a bad person who deserved to get hurt. The only difference is he knows he is, now. But the punch never comes. The venom doesn't spill, and he's left with two slaps on the back of his head. He looks up at her, tears filling his eyes again. He couldn't even face this with dignity, but how can he?

"It wasn't one movie... It was a lifetime of success... But I don't want that anymore. I'd give it up if I had to... And face it, Eri... even if I get out of here alive by some miracle... life would just be me looking over my shoulder for anyone who wants to rightfully murder me. I'm already dead inside, my body's just waiting to catch up."

He winces as he wipes his eyes with the back of his glove, scratching at himself with the obnoxious gemstone on the back. Eri's words always rang so true to him, but she was wasting energy.

"But even if you’re a little freak, like hell you’re gonna waste all the time and energy we put into being your friend by just giving up, got it?"

"How can you say these things...? I betrayed you. I lied to you. It doesn't matter how much I thought I could change! It doesn't matter if I had some epiphany, o-or came to love my friends, or finally felt like people saw me, Eri, it doesn't matter! What I did in the past-- who I am and always will be, already sealed my fate! People like me don't get happy endings! We don't get to change our fates, and we don't get redemption! We don't deserve it!"

He tries glaring up at her with teary eyes and quivering lips.

"If you live to see tomorrow, what will you do?"

"... I don't like being evil. I don't like... being selfish, a-and mean... I don't want to be the person I used to be. I just want to be kind. I want to be a good person, someone who deserves to have people who care about me, and want me around. Good people are drawn to good people... I just want to be that."

He knows how deep the sinkhole of depression is. Laying in bed for days, little food, little water. Barely pushing yourself up to do basic tasks. He knows if he survives this that he'll never get out of that bed again, but maybe Eri deserves a better answer.

"I just want to be with you guys."

That last sentence is barely above a whisper, probably only heard by those standing closest to him. It's an affront to them to even suggest he deserves to be in their presence, but he can't help it. He loves them so much. People who made him feel loved, understood, and enjoyed. They sang songs with him, and cooked meals. Played and trained and fought and made up. Countless times he was accepted for being a messy being because he was trying to change. How dare he think he ever deserved that.

Niko speaks, and he feels selfish all over again. How does he even defend himself when this is how he's painted? His shoulders tremble, and he attempts to look at Niko, but can't bring himself to look him in the eyes.

"So, when did you start feeling bad, huh?"

"I had spent so long pretending to be Malyce, the Dark One... Malyce can do anything because he doesn't care. It's... not like I just started caring because I befriended people... But... they changed me. I realized that I didn't have to force myself to be a monster. I could be myself. Or, what I thought was myself. I know it seems shallow, and stupid, but... I really never had the heart to kill people. Being eager about the artistry of it all felt easier to handle... I realized too late that I never wanted it."

"So what are you supposed to be right now, exactly? Thralls are fucked-up little demons, but you aren’t a thrall yet, so are you 100% human?"

"I... I think I'm human. I want to be human. I-I don't want to be a thrall! I don't want wings and horns, or immortality! When I arranged everything with Vual, he was very pleased with me... I felt like someone finally appreciated me. He called me intelligent, creative... a prodigy. Hungering thing, son of man, or something like that. The more he complimented me, the more I fed into what he wanted. I wanted him to be proud of me. In the contract, when this was completed, I was to become his thrall..."

He shakes his head.

"I don't want it. Ever. I... just want to be human, if I still count as one."

He slumps into his seat with a heavy sigh.

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

A Wilted Rose || Rose || Post Vote || Re: All That || Attn: Everybody

Ah. So all of that - the constant lying, the planning, the scratches, the panic attack - amounted to nothing ultimately. Maybe they should feel something besides numbness, but they had purposefully given themself a panic attack, and calming down from that had taken what little energy was remaining.

Logically, even if this had worked out for her, she'd be left with nothing - she knew what exactly had prompted this plan, this desperation, and what she had wanted. She knew just as well it had become a pipe dream as soon as Just Erika had cracked like that.

But Rose had always lived her miserable, shitty life one way: She was queen of a trash heap at best, but she had clawed her way there, and she wouldn't quit fighting for her own survival.

No matter how much the struggling hurt, it was better than just lying down and accepting the path the world seemed to keep guiding her to. No matter how much she loved herself, no matter how much she utterly loathed herself, she was still Rose, and she was alive.

Not Rose Ng, not "Erika Yuan", just Rose. 

Unwanted, undesirable-

Now wasn't the time for self-pity.

"....I don't know why any of you trusted me to begin with. That's not a taunt - I'm genuinely just baffled. I'll just... Talk, I guess."

There was a part that wanted to ask them not to ask them again if they thought this was mercy - of course it wasn't. Rose wasn't deluded enough to think that for a second - it had always been self-preservation with them. Ignoring the guilt that threatened to consume them, ignoring their fear and panic, and trying to scrape by when they didn't actually have the means to. \

Cosette shouldn't have died like that. In an ideal world, Rose would have gotten their shit together and gotten help like they had initially wanted to.

Rose had never been very good at that - rational behavior.

"For the record, I do dissociate. Erika over there's... She's taken advantage of that before, for lack of better term. I don't think she realizes it though, but that's not... You get used to that after a point."

How do they even explain this mess?

"I sent the note to her. I wanted her dead. I wanted the serial killer dead. I could say something noble, but you'd all know I was lying. I was just... tired of being scared and tired of being tired. I wanted to live and indulge instead of just-"

They cut themself off. They don't have the right to ramble like that right now, like they're some kind of victim, so they won't.

"I've been stuck as an accomplice since i was 15. That question about my mom was... yeah. Yeah, that wasn't fake. She wouldn't know though."

It's much easier when you pretend she isn't there.

"I thought it was a one time thing, so when she said she wanted to talk about how she killed my mom to others, when she told me she "fixed things", I just... I just helped her. I taught her to keep her mouth shut and get rid of evidence. ...It's not like I was ever a good person, really."

A bitter laugh follows.

"I didn't have anybody else, and it just... at the time it made sense. It wasn't a one time thing though, and if I said anything it'd implicate me too and - yeah, I wasn't willing to accept that, so I got really good at just pretending things weren't as fucked up as they were. That thinking your best friend is going to find out how miserable you are and kill you was just a normal thought people had. Pretending death roller coasters are typical."

There's another pause, Rose still refusing to acknowledge Jerika directly.

"....After the shady selling of drugs though, it got a bit too much. ...Well, boiled over to too much, I dunno. The murders were already too much to begin with, since she'd just convince people it was for the best. I just didn't - I wanted another chance. I couldn't just play damage control anymore, or try to limit the number of people she killed.

There was a drug called Dream, which Erika developed. She sometimes had me... do stocking stuff, just another part of our friendship, I guess. It caused the "death" of memories. I didn't really get how it worked entirely, but... Well, I needed an exit. And working with her for long enough means you know how needles work pretty well. I'm not really that sorry about it either - if it actually worked, everybody would be better off. I guess I can't change the personality enough."

Just Erika was the smart one, not Rose. Rose was merely... Rose. That's it.

"...In terms of the actual murder, that was as much of a failure as I am. It was meant to kill instantly with the kettlebell. You saw how that worked out though. ...I couldn't see who was showing up either, so when I heard the chicken I thought it was her. I cut the wire, and then-"

Rose pauses. Because if they answer that way, it really will just sound like they want pity. Like it's not genuine. ...Rose is going to die though, so what does it matter?

"I saw Cosette and panicked. I don't know when Erika came in exactly, but she did and saw all of that. I was... I did want to get Cosette medical help - and I don't think that makes me better, I know that makes it worse - but as soon as Erika walked in? Cosette was not going to live, even if I got help. It was a matter of risking memories returning, from what I saw, or preserving myself.

Erika calmed me down and... Yeah. Yeah, she suggested it and I took the suggestion because I was used to listening to her. Erika suggested we get the blankets to make Cosette more comfortable, that wasn't part of the trap. I knew that wouldn't make a difference, but at this point I didn't have any better ideas. I was... I was dependent on her again, so I went with it. It was still my choice though - I'm not arguing with that. I'm not describing anything that happened next - at most you just need to know I went to my room, put the makeup on, and had a panic attack. I only left when the announcement played."

That's all there is to it. So few words for something so big. And Rose, ugly, pathetic Rose, gets to be seen in full.

"...If you want to hit me or something I won't fight back. It doesn't matter. None of it does. ...What matters is I killed somebody, put myself on Erika's level. ...Actually, no. What matters is Cosette died because I did a shitty job at everything. That's it. Cosette mattered."

She's lost the energy she has to fight back, a distant gaze in her eyes. It's hard to say she'd even properly react to anybody trying to speak or yell at her.

What a pathetic sight.